


Club

by 0akdown



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, listen i need this to happen, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0akdown/pseuds/0akdown
Summary: A red sim trooper and an ex-mercenary walk into a bar.-----------------------------------------------Locus decides that if he was going to take on the Blues and Reds, he'd better get some help.





	Club

After running the risk of talking his ear off, Locus had banished Grif to the rear end of the ship, where he was very busy pacing around the limited space, mumbling to himself.

  
The Orange Soldier was barely finished with the seventh complete remake of an incredibly elaborate apology to his team, when the low hum of the space crafts engines died down, and the ship came to a halt.

  
Eagerly, Grif made his way over to Locus, who was studying something on a holoscreen.

  
''Are we there? Is this where my team is? Is this where Simmons is? Are there going to be bad guys waiting for us.''

Locus turned to look at him.

''No.''

Grif tilted his head, confusion clearly audible in his voice.

''What do you mean no?''

Locus sighed, letting the holoscreen disappear and slowly walking over to the ships entrance.

''This is not where your friends are.''

Grifs hands, formerly occupied with nervously fidgeting at his armor straps, now started to shake. 

''What do you mean this isn't where my friends are? We need to get to them! We need to help them! Oh god wait are you still evil. Did you lure me into a trap. Are you going to kill me now.''

Locus shook his head, the line of his shoulders tight, irritation audible in his voice.

''I already told you, I am not here to kill you.''

Grif threw his hands up in frustration.

''Then what are we doing here? We need to help them-''

Locus grimly interrupted Grif.

''Not alone.''

 

 

  
A red sim trooper and an ex-mercenary walk into a bar.

If Grif hadn't been so utterly terrified, he might've been able to appreciate the irony.

The bar was loud, bright and smelled of alcohol, piss and puke. Not exactly what Grif had imagined Locus' first choice to be. There were a few people in power armor, but most of the club-goers were wearing casual outfits. Locus determinedly made his way through the inebriated crowd, heading straight for the bar at the end of the room. 

Grif did his best to follow the man, slightly disoriented by the loud music and flashing lights.  
The ex-mercenary and sim trooper reached the bar, and Locus sat down on one of the stools, so Grif did as well. Right next to them sat another man, also clad in power armor, seemingly the standard black issue.

They stayed silent for a while, Grif letting his eyes sweep over the dancing people while fidgeting with a coaster someone had left at the bar.  
Just when Grif turned to face Locus, feeling pressured to say something to break the akward silence, Locus spoke.

''Hey.''

Grif was confused for a short second, until he saw the man in the power armor slowly turn his head in Locus' direction.

Oh, it wasn't standard black armor. He had purple accents too.

The two faced each other, silent, neither of their visors betraying their expressions, until, finally, the man next to them spoke.

''Hey? That's all you got? Hey?''

Locus tensed up for a quantum of a second, before his shoulders started to shake.

Wait, holy shit.

Was he _laughing?_

Still chuckling, the ex-mercenary nudged Grif with his elbow, jerking his head in the not-so-strangers direction.

''Grif, meet Siris. He's an old friend.''

This could only end badly.


End file.
